


See Me Differently

by acidicshortcake



Series: Kinktober 2k19 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Kinktober 2019, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 13:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20949452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicshortcake/pseuds/acidicshortcake
Summary: Her beauty was both blessing and curse; it would be all she’d ever be remembered for, for it was all anyone saw of her.But it’s different with Petra.Written for Kinktober 2k19. [ Day 4 - Mirror Sex ]





	See Me Differently

“Dorothea, look.” 

It takes effort to peel open her eyes in the face of Petra’s dexterous hands playing her body like an instrument, but Dorothea manages. The sight she’s met with sends a scorching heat barreling to her already dripping slit, leaving her flesh throbbing around Petra’s fingers. 

Dorothea’s never seen herself quite so disheveled before. Her hair is a contained mess, strands sticking this way and that, calling for a nice, careful brushing. Gloss and saliva mix to bring a shine to her parted lips. Reddened flush colors her skin, spreading to the curves of her chest. Petra’s free hand moves from Dorothea’s waist and roams upward, cupping a breast and slotting a stiffened nipple between her fingers. Dorothea’s lashes flutter as she sighs, tilting her head back but not tearing her eyes away from the mirror leaning against the wall. 

In all the times she’s been behind closed doors in someone’s lap, this is the first time Dorothea’s watched herself. It’s a strange sort of appeal. The rise of her chest with her heavy breaths would have gone without notice in the back of her mind, but she’s captivated by it now as she watches herself. The dip of her flesh when Petra squeezes her breast, the way her thighs tremble, spread apart as Petra strokes between her swollen lower lips. Dorothea stares, captivated, as her own hips roll against Petra’s fingers, hungry for more. 

“Like this, I can be seeing you,” Petra hums. Their eyes meet in their reflections. Dorothea’s heart skips a beat at the hint of a smirk on Petra’s lips, only to lose stability further when Petra curls her fingers inside, and Dorothea watches how pleasure manifests itself onto her own face. 

“You can,” Dorothea breathes, heat flowing through her nerves. “Oh by the goddess, you can.” 

It’s a slow and steady build-up that leaves Dorothea writhing and panting; of the two of them, Petra’s rarely the one to rush things, always taking her time and savoring instead. Dorothea’s compared it to worship more than once. Even now she feels on the edge of overwhelmed, with Petra fixating on each of her weak points. Teeth nibble at Dorothea’s nape and a shudder runs through her, forcing a shaky exhale as she squirms. Between her thighs, Petra’s thumb brushes over the Dorothea’s clit, and Dorothea’s hips struggle not to jerk upwards and into the touch. She nearly whimpers at the way her back arches in Petra’s hold, casting an erotic sort of image in the mirror, just as much as she keens for that touch again. 

She wants to close her eyes and bask in sensation, and yet the desire to see herself fall apart is contributing to that heady rush. She almost looks to be putting on a performance, Dorothea thinks with amusement; the way her legs spread wider and her teeth pull her bottom lip between them only brings to mind the idea of putting on an act, and yet it’s all reality. For all her years in opera, Dorothea has never once understood how her looks could snatch the hearts of so many. She’d thought it nothing short of shallow, always the lust of men or the envy of women chasing after her every step. Her beauty was both blessing and curse; it would be all she’d ever be remembered for, for it was all anyone saw of her. 

But it’s different with Petra. Dorothea doesn’t attempt to shy away from the mirror that puts her on display, for she’s known for some time now that the love Petra shows goes beyond just looks. It shows when Petra kisses at a scar that tears smooth flesh over the curve of Dorothea’s shoulder. It shows in how sharp eyes stay all but locked on Dorothea’s face, drinking in her expressions and every slight shift within them, looking at her with such an intense feeling of genuine love that sometimes Dorothea finds herself having to look away. 

It shows when Petra’s limit is finally reached and she, in an astonishingly easy movement that leaves Dorothea’s head spinning, pins Dorothea down to their shared bed. 

“I cannot be satisfying with just this,” she says, and Dorothea can easily hear how worked up she’s gotten in the scramble of her words. The expression she wears reminds Dorothea of a predator fixed onto its prey; she shivers under the thrill of it. “Dorothea—I must be having you.”

Dorothea’s heart swells. She laughs, gentle but as bright as her smile. 

“Oh, Petra. What are you waiting for? You already have me, don’t you?” 

Before the last syllable leaves her tongue, Petra descends upon her like a hawk. 

There might as well be fire behind Petra’s touch, for she seems all but intent to leave Dorothea in ashes. Teeth catch at her perked nipple; Dorothea whines at the feeling. This borderline roughness that Petra delves into always leaves Dorothea scrambling for air and stability alike—a hand tangles into Petra’s hair as the other curls into her own. Each grip tightens when Petra climbs down Dorothea’s body and settles her face between her thighs. 

No effort is spared in how Petra’s tongue tends to her, meeting her heat with enthusiasm. It dips between her folds, sliding up in firm strokes all the way to her clit, where it flicks against the swollen nub before trailing back down again. Fingers still slick from earlier dive into Dorothea once more, twisting and thrusting in all the ways she likes. Her moans write songs to fill the room, mingling with the telltale sound of how wet she is. 

“Oh, Petra—Oh  _ yes _ , I’m coming, I’m gonna come, just like that, you’ll make me—”

And then she does, with a sharp cry and her fists tight in Petra’s hair. Her hips jerk as her muscles spasm and seize; Petra holds to her with determination, crooking those devilish fingers and sucking on her swollen clit. Her orgasm feels like it lasts a lifetime, and yet when she comes down, panting heavily, all Dorothea can think about is how Petra never lets it end at just one. 

So accustomed to Petra’s habits by now, Dorothea’s lips part to allow the Queen’s tongue to slip inside before she even opens her eyes. Their bodies slide together, hips aligned as Petra grinds their clits together. It takes all Dorothea has to simply gasp and whine, arching up instead of pulling way as her legs shake with the intensity of the feeling. 

“Please, please, right there—” 

Petra purrs something in Brigid’s native tongue, and Dorothea’s moan reverberates through her throat. Calloused hands cup her face as Petra grinds against her harder, faster—enough to leave Dorothea scrambling for purchase as she’s quickly brought to another climax. This time, Petra finishes alongside her, muffling both their cries with a kiss. 

The room is silent save for the sounds of them catching their breath. Dorothea always feels small at this part, with Petra’s intense staring as if she’ll somehow forget what Dorothea looks like—it’s overwhelming, it’s reassuring. It’s too much and yet Dorothea can’t get enough. 

Foreign words spill from Petra’s lips as she wraps herself around Dorothea, planting soft and small kisses across her jaw and throat. Dorothea’s heard them enough times to understand, though with the sincerity in Petra’s voice, she’s sure she wouldn’t need to. A smile blooms on her face; she runs her fingers through Petra’s hair soothingly. 

“I love you too, Petra. I love you so much.” 

**Author's Note:**

> slowly i catch up on these prompts.


End file.
